Harvest is complete.
Fallow fields lie brown and naked against
the relentless press of the north wind.
Winter closes in.
You are my warmth.
Memories of your hot kisses on my neck,
the soft heat of your body as
I lay safe in your arms,
and, now, even from so far away,
the expansive brightness of your soul
surrounds me with a glow more radiant than the rays of the sun.
You are my light.